


If I Jump in this Fountain, Will I Be Forgiven?

by Enickel8



Category: Avengers (Comics), Captain Marvel (Marvel Comics), Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616, Spider-Woman (Comic)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Best Friends, Gen, Road Trips, Strong opinions about late 20th century pop culture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-01
Updated: 2018-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:22:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26939554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enickel8/pseuds/Enickel8
Summary: Carol has a bad night. Jess helps, in that way that only Jess can.
Relationships: Carol Danvers & Jessica Drew
Kudos: 2





	If I Jump in this Fountain, Will I Be Forgiven?

Carol woke slowly.

(In this case, it is important that ‘slowly’ not to be mistaken for a synonym for ‘peacefully.’ In this case, ‘slowly’ is more of a synonym for ‘agonizingly drawn out, and ultimately disappointing.’ Like the feeling you get when you’re swimming back to the surface of a lake after realizing you’d gone too deep and are in serious danger of running out of air, but somehow manage to break the surface, only to immediately hit your head on the god forsaken dock.

It is not a good ‘slowly.’)

So slowly, in fact, that, by the time she managed to peel her eyes open, she’d gathered quite a bit of information about her current situation. The low-pitched hum that surrounded her and the gentle vibration that ran through her made it clear that she was in a car. There was a dry, stiflingly hot breeze hitting her directly in the face, making her think that she was likely closer than the West coast than the East. The lack of burning in her lungs despite the fact that she’d been breathing in unfiltered air for some time told her that they were some ways away from a big city. Alanis Morissette's somewhat-muted (but very distinctive) angry shouting assaulting her ears meant that she was with Jess. Best of all, the familiar jackhammering in her head, coupled with the heavy discomfort of vomit-flavored cottonmouth had her concluding that she was no longer on the wagon.

Great.

She cracked one eye open slowly, grateful to see that she was wearing sunglasses, and had at least some protection from the oppressive sunshine beating down on them. Wait, were they in a convertible? Those were still a thing?

“ _Jagged Little Pill_? Really? Did I piss you off _that_ much?” Carol husked out, sitting up a little in her seat as she shifted to face Jess. Her head spun a bit at the motion, but she ignored it. It would pass.

Jess turned to her, dark eyebrows furrowed behind a pair of black Wayfarers as she looked Carol over. After a moment, she scoffed, turning her gaze back to the road. “Don’t flatter yourself. My iTunes is on shuffle; that song coming up at this exact moment was a coincidence.” She paused, then; long enough that anyone else would think that she was done, and the subject was closed. Carol just waited. “That, or Siri thinks you’re just as much of an idiot as I do and wants you to suffer.”

There it was. Sighing, Carol ran a hand through her short hair and settled back into her seat. When the silence became too much, Carol bit the bullet. “Jess—"

“No. Shut up for a second.” She replied sharply, not shifting her gaze from the road.

Carol tilted her head at that, confused. With the exception of when they were post-battle and simply too tired to do anything but stare at the TV in a half-conscious stupor, the two of them were never ones for silence. If one wasn’t doing the talking, the other took it as their cue to start. Especially Jess. Neither one of them tolerated long pauses in conversation for long, but Jess was the worst of two by far. So, if Carol had already begun to grow uncomfortable in the silence, Jess insisting it continue meant that she was either really pissed, or something was up. “Listen, I was just going to—”

“Shut _up_ , Carol.” Jess said, exasperated. This time Carol complied.

True to form, though, Jess lasted only another thirty seconds or so before she was speaking. “I’m angry with you.”

Raising her eyebrows, Carol waited a moment before replying. “…Yeah. I got that.”

“Like, really pissed.”

“Also clear, Jess, thanks.” Carol said flatly, trying not to choke on the guilt growing within her.

Jess shook her head, wanting Carol to get what she was saying. “But I’m trying not to be.”

At that, Carol’s brows furrowed. That was weird. She was sure that some people had friendships where they never judged each other, and minced words, and solved problems via open, soft-spoken communication – though she’d never met them and was sure they’d be insufferable – but that was not her and Jess. Yelling was how they communicated when one or both of them was being a moron. And if said yelling took place during a very arduous battle against some idiot trying to take over the world, or something comparably bad? Even better. Sometimes it even ended the argument faster. So, trying to not be angry when there was real cause to be? Definitely not their jam.

Carol’s reply was skeptical. “Okay. Why?”

There was another brief silence as Jess took a deep breath, moving one hand from the wheel so that it could rest on her thigh. The opening chords to One Hand in My Pocket started, and Carol absently groaned, vowing to expand Jess’ music tastes even as she waited for her friend to speak. “Because I love you, and you have a problem, and it’s hard to have a real, productive conversation when I want to punt you into the sun.” She said, clearly still upset. “And I know it’s worked before. The yelling. But this is different. We’re older, and calmer, and you’ve been sober for so long—” She sighed, clearing her throat before continuing. “Besides, I read this article in _Psychology Today_ —”

Carol barked out a laugh, surprising herself. “I thought you were going to cancel that subscription?”

“I thought so, too, but what would that accomplish? Stark gets a partial refund, pats himself on the back for a successful practical joke, and I get nothing. _Like hell_.” She moved her other hand back up to the steering wheel, squeezing tightly. “No. Not only am I keeping the subscription, I’m reading every article, finding the ones that apply to him, and starting up a discussion about a different one with a different Avenger until every single one of them knows what modern science has to say about his issues.” The smile on her face was positively malevolent. “Maybe then he’ll learn the dangers of being a jackass.”

“…Babe.” Carol said softly, resting a hand on Jess’ shoulder, both amused and concerned.

“What? I hate him.” Jess replied petulantly. She didn’t, but that didn’t need to be said. The Avengers were all complex disasters individually; their relationships could hardly be as simple as love and hate. Carol knew that as much as anyone.

“Anyway, I read that article, and I was thinking that maybe we just… let it go.” Her tone was uncertain, but hopeful. She really wanted this to work.

Again, Carol was skeptical. “I appreciate that you don’t want to be angry with me, but I’m not naïve, Jess.” She dropped her hand from Jess’ shoulder and back into her lap, lacing her fingers together tightly. “I remember absolutely nothing about last night, which means that my blood alcohol level had to be nearing the triple digits. And as much as I’m hoping I didn’t cause any scenes, I can’t help but notice that we’re in… Arizona?”

“New Mexico.”

“Right. Closer to Las Vegas than Jersey City, which is a huge problem when the last thing I remember is flying over the Brooklyn Bridge. I think it’s safe to say that you didn’t wait for me to pass out and then fly me cross country, which means that something happened, I came here, and then got so drunk I blacked out. Unless I got drunk first, which is even worse. Either way, Jess, I need help. I just do.” Her stomach churned then, nausea mixing with anxiety as she thought about what happened last night. What could have been so bad that this is where she’d ended up? God, did she even want to know?

“I know, Carol. I was there.” Jess said, tone less sharp than before. She was obviously still irritated, but she seemed to be calming some. “And the thing is that relapses happen. They just do. I’m not even going to ask if you plan to keep going to meetings, because I know you do. Do you really think this one incident means you need to go to rehab? Because I don’t. What I think is that we need to treat the symptoms.” She nodded to herself, mood improving now that she’d voiced her thoughts. Carol was impressed at how well-adjusted she sounded. Maybe Jess should have started reading _Psychology Today_ years ago, when there was an actual chance for the two of them to be anything less than the hottest of messes. “The fact is that it came to a boiling point. Half the team left to take their yearly mid-life crisis sabbatical, the half that replaced them are so green that I seriously think you might need to think about instituting a mandatory nap time, and the ones that are left are just pissed. All the time. At themselves, at you, at each other – just pissed. It’s too much. It’s all too much. No wonder you imploded.”

She had a point. It _had_ been bad. Carol had been convinced that she just needed to keep going and give it time – allow the team to heal itself, and then take a break. But being leader when things were so unstable and emotionally fraught really had begun to take its toll. Even without knowing what exactly had triggered her relapse, she knew that it was just one more thing on top of an already insurmountable load. 

“Does this mean that you’re cutting your own mid-life crisis short?”

“Okay, first off: ’Mid-life’ my ass. My shapely, muscular ass. My shapely, muscular ass, and my gravity-defying, perky boobs.” Jess said pointedly, one eyebrow raised in warning as she looked to her friend. “Second, I don’t know what I’m going to do. I thought the PI thing was working, but—”

She cut herself off with a sigh, shaking her head slightly. The _but you need_ me wasn’t said, but Carol heard it anyway. She couldn’t decide if she was selfless enough to mention it. Probably not. Not right now, at least.

“How about we talk about you, first? We’re treating the symptoms, remember?” Jess said, tapping the steering wheel with her palm a few times as she redirected the conversation. “So, we’re doing the normal, human, non-powered thing. We’re taking a road trip. We’re leaving behind the 9 to 5 grind in our slow but reliable car, and we’re going to clear our heads on the open road. We’ll worry about everything else later. Let the men deal with the stock broking, and we’ll clean up their messes when we get back.”

“…Did you hate watch _Working Girl_ again?” Carol said with a smirk, knowing that Jess would take the apparent subject change as her acquiescence to the plan. She doubted that a road trip was going to keep her from backsliding, but a few weeks detached from reality still seemed like a good idea. Jess would keep her from drinking, and they’d take a breath. Okay. She could do that.

“I think you already know the answer to that, Sparky.” Jess replied, unashamed.

“I still don’t get what you hate about it. Plenty of peo—” She cut herself off with a groan, distracted as the chorus of Ironic pumped in through the speakers. Shuffle her ass. “Oh, you treacherous gutter witch. You could have at least admitted it.” Ugh. Was it her imagination, or was her headache getting worse?

“Nah. The false hope made the realization more painful.” Jess said, delighted. Once a terrorist, always a terrorist.

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: The opinions expressed within the story do not reflect those of the author. I extend my heartfelt apologies to both Alanis Morissette and Melanie Griffith.
> 
> Canon point left intentionally vague.


End file.
